


Capturing Memories

by Bahyek, Medikitty



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Arthur being Arthur, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Romance, affair implied, dont tell abigail you jerks!, gey cowboysssss, he can be such a dork, lovely cowbois
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 08:59:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17019711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bahyek/pseuds/Bahyek, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medikitty/pseuds/Medikitty
Summary: Arthur poses and then swats John’s arm, barking “C’mon, Marston, smile at least”He’s still confused, this is happening really fast. He’s got barely enough time to look at the camera before it clicks."Heh"Arthur collects the camera and shuffles off with it without another word.





	1. Sunset, Camera, John!

**Author's Note:**

> I love my own RL Arthur, he gives me the drive and ideas to make these cute stories. Thank you, everyone, who has taken a liking to my stories! I have so many behind the Van der Linde tent stories to share!
> 
> This one is based off [These Bois Photo](https://66.media.tumblr.com/c3f0e51254d95024b41b5b342ee61c77/tumblr_inline_pjudnzDpFQ1r437ra_540.png)

**"** Now let's see how this works again... **"**  Arthur mumbled to himself, fumbling with the square contraption.  Ever since meeting that strange wildlife photographer, the outlaw became more interested in the odd art.  He appreciated pictures;  they were like sketches only less time with finer details.  Hosea frequently compared his talents of drawing with photography.  Both consumed the very moment into a physical memory.  The mare snorted at the concentrated attention as Arthur reset the frames, using her as the exemplary model since most of the camp were still out running errands.   
  
**"** Hey, Arthur. **"**    
  
Withdrawing his head from the focal lenses to being called, a light sparked in his mind.   
  
**"** Uh, Hey John! **"**  He called out as the other made his way down the hill to the contribution box.  
  
"Well this wraps up your session, my lady" The outlaw chimed, turning back to the mare that only shook her mane in response.  He let out a hearty chuckle and grabbed the brush on the ground to groom her as a reward.

 

\----------------------

 

 

 

**"** Ay, Lenny.  Don't suppose you know what this...  thing is, do you? **"**  

John took a seat in his familiar spot surrounding the campfire.  Next to him stood awkwardly a metal object.  It looked like an incomplete stool of some sort.  "Not a clue.  Arthur came trotting over with it somethin' or other.  You know Arthur better than I do. "

**"** Mmm. **"** ****

The cowboy squinted his eyes at the object then turned to look over his shoulder at the tent.  He could make out the man in conversation was sitting on his cot fiddling with something.  However, the amber glare from the horizon blinded him from seeing anything else.  Taking a swig of brandy, he tried ignoring the nagging curiosity.   _If Arthur wanted to share, he sure as hell would make it known._  
  
  
Not long thereafter, the sound of spurs came clacking toward the campfire.  Turning to the stranger John's brows knitted together looking at the gunslinger himself fiddling with the contraption he sought his best to ignore and a... camera?  There was a few ticks and pops then, **"** Aight, here we go! ** " **

  
Arthur turned to John with a silly lopsided smile, clearly fascinated by whatever he had discovered with the camera.  Rushing over to the cowboy, he stood next to the younger man.  
  


**"** C'mon John get ready. **"**   
  
**"** Get ready for what? **"**

  
  
Arthur pointed at the camera facing them with one hand while the other gave John a light punch to the shoulder as he added briskly,  
  
**"** Dammit Marston, at least smile for once. **"**    
  
**"** Hey what the h **-"**    
  


**_ *FLASH* _ **

  
The cowboy blinked stupidly several times— _stunned_.  The ticking had stopped. Moreover, Arthur was gone as fast as he had appeared.   _How the hell?_

  
He would have been convinced he imagined it all if it wasn't for Lenny's cackling, commenting on 'how off the rocker' Arthur could be.  Mild curiosity would have taken John until his ears heard another set of footsteps join the circle with an agitated huff. An ache in his head started to throb.   
  
_ Abigail. _

 


	2. A Photo is worth a thousand unspoken words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been a good few days since the incident. Arthur promptly returned to his broody self by morning. Perhaps it was nothing?

It had been a good few days since the incident.  Arthur promptly returned to his broody self by morning, leaving John to dismiss the whole event as nothing.  If Arthur was over it already, then it probably wasn't worth the trouble.  By noon the gunslinger left.  The cowboy hadn't regarded his return to camp until at dusk two days later.   
  
John was chopping wood, the chore for some reason only him and Charles seemed to know how to do.  It was annoying when the camp got lazy, though he could understand why.  This was the first season in so many where the gang actually had the ability to rest and settle, where everyone could breathe.  He supposed it could slide until Ms. Grimshaw caught on.  With a crack of the last log splitting, John stretched and set down the axe.  The gentle sounds of a crackling fire and clucks from the chicken coop chimed to the tune of the evening crickets.   
  
Looking around idly, John glimpsed Arthur on the dock.  He wasn't aware when the gunslinger had returned nor for how long, but a familiar feeling eased into him.  Examining the rest of the camp, John gave a small smirk.  It was pretty much empty, well...  of the nosey folk at least.  
  
**"** How was the trip? **"**  John greeted Arthur, boots tapping along the wooden pier.  He attentively observed the elder, whom was vigorously shuffling through some square parchments.  A closer view and John could conclude they were photos.  He stood comfortably behind the man, peering over his shoulder at the images.   
  
_ Deer, lots of angles of his horse, some... grass?  And- _

 

**"** Ah!  Marston take a gander at this! **"** Arthur chirped, his head rising to look back at John.  The cowboy had to lower his head so the brim of his worn hat hid the warmth he felt crossing over his cheeks.  Those vibrant green eyes, filled with a childlike eagerness.  That smile with all of its charm, even the primmest and proper women would melt.  John stepped closer, pressing his lips against Arthur's shoulderblade.  The scent of pine and musk lingered in the gunslingers clothing.  It was assumed he was pursuing a task up north.  John remained reserved, peering over at the photo Arthur held for him to see.  
  
  
It was a picture of them...  not just any picture though;   _the one from three days ago_.

  
  
Arthur chuckled, pointing at Marston in the photo.   **"** Look at ya!  Tryin' to be all mean and stupid lookin'! **"**  

  
  
**"** Oh shut up, you didn't even say what was goin' on **!"**  John argued.  The fabric of Arthur's shirt muffled any hint of vexation in his tone, not that there was any.   
  
**"** Yeah, sure.  I told you to smile. **"**  The gunslinger said with an eye-roll, gently leaning into John's warmth, reclining against him as the sun began sinking into the swamps over yonder.  John hummed in return, readjusting himself to prop his chin on the gunslinger's shoulder so they were flush.  It was a small intimacy, but it was a comfortable one that only Arthur could play off so casually.   
  
The outlaw was getting ready to stash the picture back into his satchel when an arm wrapped around, a hand seizing his wrist.  He cast John a sidelong look in query.  
  
**"** Ya'know, I kind of like it.  Mind if I keep this one? ** " **  
  
Arthur blinked a few breathless moments, caught off guard by the question.  As long as he knew John, he wasn't real big on mementos and small keepsakes.  They lived on the run—always had, so the more youthful cowboy preferred to live sufficiently in the present while Arthur found the calming comfort of the past.   
  
**"** Sure. **"**  He conclusively said after several moments of hesitant silence, giving John a smile that hinted towards fondness.  
  
John's hand slid to overlap Arthur's that held the photo so they held it together.  Neither of them moved immediately, merely gazing down at the photo and a gloved thumb resting on one corner.  A scratched up, dirtied one rested on the opposite corner.   
  
  
**"** What was that sayin' Hosea used to tell you all those times he tried to take pictures of us as kids? **"**  John inquired quietly, not wanting to shatter the delicate familiarity they shared in that precise moment.  Arthurs' mouth tugged into a small smirk, a brow quirking in amusement.  
  
  
"When the road seems lost, one tends to recall their fondest memories for comfort.  Photos are the mirrors of memories.  Reflect on them and you'll find your way home. " 


End file.
